


can't let go of our design

by ofamaranthlie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Come play, Dominant Armitage Hux, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentions of The Robe™, Minor Violence, Submissive Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 07:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofamaranthlie/pseuds/ofamaranthlie
Summary: After returning from a successful, offsite mission, Kylo visits Hux and recounts what happened, including all of the bloody details.  They both enjoy it a little more than they should.





	can't let go of our design

**Author's Note:**

> All the new information from the Phasma novel (which is an amazing read, please go read it if you haven't!) and tidbits from TLJ breathed new life in my Kylux-loving bones. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Title taken from "Come Back to Me" from Les Friction.

As always, Kylo comes to Hux’s room at night.

They’ve established a routine for when Kylo returns from major offsite missions.  He reports to Snoke, updating the Supreme Leader on the results and any issues, and then he reports to Hux, whose interest in Kylo’s report isn’t _quite_ the same.

The hour is late when Kylo finally steps into Hux’s quarters, an imposing, dark figure in the dim lighting of the room.  Hux is silent at first, gaze sweeping over Kylo’s cloaked, masked body, assessing for any noteworthy damage Kylo might have sustained during his mission.  Seeing none, he tilts his head to the side, inviting Kylo to _come closer._ Kylo obeys like the compliant little thing he is when he’s like this, drawn forward by the gravitational pull of order and sense that Hux exudes, one slow step at a time until there’s scarcely a foot of space between them.  They’re close enough that Hux can see the blood splatters across the left side of Kylo’s mask, can smell the sharp, otherworldly scent from whatever hellhole planet Kylo was sent to; everything about Kylo screams _danger_ , and Hux loves it.

Because for all of Kylo’s power, all of his devastatingly beautiful strength and abilities to send men to their knees, Kylo places everything he has at Hux’s feet, trusting him to take care of him.

 _Good,_ Hux thinks, and Kylo must hear him based on his harsh exhale, distorted by his mask.  Kylo’s silent as reaches for the releases on his mask, his movements fluid and calm, and then there’s the whoosh of air and Kylo’s bare face on display.  Kylo places his mask on a side table with a reverent gentleness, and then he turns back to Hux, who greedily drinks in the sight.  Kylo looks tired, skin dry from the arid climate he’s spent the last two weeks in, but there’s a fire to his eyes, his pupils dilated from more than just adjusting to the dark room.  Hux’s hands itch to touch, and he doesn’t deny himself the pleasure for longer than a moment, reaching up to place a gloved palm against Kylo’s cheek.  Kylo exhales hard again, leaning into the touch like a starved dog, aching for companionship.

“The mission was successful, I assume,” Hux says, breaking the silence between them.  It’s a fair assumption. Had there been a mishap, Kylo would not be so collected; he’s known to arrive and cause Hux’s furniture to shake from his frustration until Hux calms him down in the best way he knows how (a firm hand, stern but guiding words).

“It was,” Kylo agrees, each word a warm press of breath against leather, and for a second, Hux regrets wearing gloves.

Hux hums, skimming his fingers down the curve of Kylo’s jaw until they curl around his chin, keeping him right where Hux wants him.  Kylo meets his gaze without hesitation, all tendrils of hunger and growing adrenaline, and the heady expression might as well be some kind of narcotic because Hux can’t get enough of it.

“How many did you kill?” Hux asks, as casually as if inquiring about the weather.  The Stormtroopers did most of the damage, of course, but he knows Kylo and his Knights killed the ones who really counted.

“Twenty eight myself,” Kylo answers, oh so obedient and _proud_ , and Hux rewards him by releasing his chin, tickling the skin before dropping lower, slowly trailing down his pale neck until Kylo’s eyes flutter, pleased.

“Of course you did.”  Hux steps closer, crowding himself in Kylo’s space until he can nose against Kylo’s left ear, inhaling the smell of atmosphere and violence that clings to the soft waves of Kylo’s hair.  He nips the earlobe, worrying it with his teeth until Kylo makes the softest sound, a gentle whine lost in the increasingly warm air between them.

Hux can feel Kylo lift his arm a few inches before pausing, resolutely dropping it at his side a second later.  Though they’ve barely begun, Kylo is already obeying the rules, not touching without permission.  An impressive feat, especially given how they haven’t seen each other for some time.   _How well trained._

“You may touch,” Hux says, cool and just a little smug, because like hell he doesn’t enjoy the sway he has over Kylo, a man who could kill him with a snap of his fingers but instead chooses to submit, to obey.

Kylo doesn’t hesitate, simply rests a big hand on Hux’s hip and squeezes as if to try to keep Hux from going anywhere, like Hux may disappear if Kylo doesn’t hold on tightly enough.  Hux allows his own hands to wander, gliding up the impressive muscle of Kylo’s chest and shoulders, appreciative and claiming as he seeks to remove all traces of others who have been near Kylo lately.  Kylo’s plush lips part on a breath, and Hux can’t be blamed for leaning in, kissing him hard enough their teeth clack.  Kylo’s arm wraps around Hux’s waist as he moans into Hux’s mouth, shuddering when Hux pulls back just enough to bite at Kylo’s lips, wanting to draw blood, wanting to _hurt._

“Tell me how you killed them,” Hux murmurs against Kylo’s kiss-swollen lips, tongue running along Kylo’s bottom lip in a lewd, wet invitation.  Kylo falls for it, always does, leaning in for another kiss that has heat pooling in Hux’s stomach, shooting a fiery path down until his cock stirs.

“Snapped two guards necks before they could sound the alarm,” Kylo says, his voice ragged around the edges, throaty and delicious.  Hux buries a hand in Kylo’s hair and yanks _hard_ , forcing Kylo’s head back to expose more of his throat, a sight nearly more symbolic than anything.  Kylo hisses a little but allows it, eyes fluttering as Hux takes to biting along the skin, sucking angry marks that he smoothes over with his lips and tongue.

Kylo goes silent, then, which simply won’t do.  Hux sinks his teeth in hard, predatory, and smacks a hand against Kylo’s hip that makes him jerk from the shock of it.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Hux reminds him, voice clipped with the promise of punishment if he doesn’t receive obedience.

Hux can feel Kylo swallow, tightens his hand in Kylo’s hair in a veiled threat.

“Stormtroopers cleared the way, and I, _ah_ ,” Kylo groans, cutting off when Hux drives a knee between Kylo’s legs, brushing his half-hard cock, little more than a teasing prod.

“I tracked down the marks.  Three of them, as you know.  Struck down everyone in my way,” Kylo says, and now it’s Hux’s turn to lose his breath, feeling himself grow harder in his pants.

Because this is how it goes when Kylo returns to him: Kylo recounts the gory details as they explore each other’s bodies, remapping the familiar planes of one another while getting off on the tales of violence and victory.

“I bet you did,” Hux says, voice pitching lower as he rakes his teeth across Kylo’s collarbone, allowing the image to play through his head - Kylo swinging his saber as he prowls forward, an unstoppable force of nature that leaves piles of corpses in his wake.  And though it may be in the Supreme Leader’s name for now, Hux’s most covetous, secretive desire is for it to be in his own name, blood spilled for the gilded emperor.  Kylo will come back to _Hux_ , report to him first and only while on his knees, receive a proper petting to let him know he’s done a good job afterward.

Hunger deepens, and after baring his teeth at Kylo’s neck like a wolf, Hux pulls back and begins ripping into Kylo’s robes, forever cursing that the man insists on wearing so many layers.  Kylo assists, and they manage to shuck off enough of Kylo’s robes that Hux can run his hands along Kylo’s sculpted stomach, digging his fingers in until Kylo squirms.

“I bet you made their deaths slow,” Hux continues, tracing the waistband of Kylo’s pants, torturously slow and avoiding where Kylo wants him the most.  “I bet you made them bleed.”

Kylo bunts his head against Hux’s shoulder, mouths at the fabric of Hux’s robe there while he scratches a hand down Hux’s back, hard enough for it to sting.  

“Yes,” Kylo says, more breath than word, nipping along Hux’s jaw.  “You should have seen it, Hux.  It was beautiful.”

And oh yes, Hux _can_ see it.  Kylo a dark pillar, cornering his prey in their laboratory where they review weapons schematics, ones that will never see the light of day now.  There’d be blood splattered on the walls and floors, Kylo knocking them around with the Force as the room fills with the crack of bones and gurgled screams, only striking them down with his saber when he was done toying with them like a cat.  Dramatics aside, Kylo is always beautiful when he kills, a fact that even Hux cannot deny.

He meets Kylo’s eyes, who are even darker, drunk on the memory of his kills and the need to be touched, a reminder that Kylo is just as affected by this as Hux.   _What a pair we make_ , Hux thinks, and he doesn’t miss the way Kylo's breath hitches, intoxicated at the thought.

 _Yes_ , Kylo murmurs against Hux’s mind, a praise and an agreement.  Hux’s hand drops lower, strokes down the hard outline of Kylo’s fat cock straining his pants hard enough that it must hurt.  Kylo rolls his hips forward, trying to chase his pleasure, nearly whining when Hux withdraws his hand out of reach.

“The lead engineer, Praav - he was the last.”  Kylo ruts down, a long, shameless grind against Hux’s thigh that has him biting his lips in an effort to keep quiet.  “He was the best.  Cut off his right arm and made him beg for death.  There were still tears on his cheeks when I slashed his neck.”

Kylo’s moving faster now, grunting a little with each grind downward, movements that must be nowhere near satisfying, Hux knows.  He allows it to go on for another ten seconds, admiring the sight of the fiercest Knight of Ren being reduced to a needy mess, desperate to come in his pants if Hux would allow him the privilege.  Arousal flares until Hux nearly sees white, and only then does he grant his favored pet mercy.

“Stop,” Hux barks, and Kylo obeys, brows knitted from the effort.  Hux pats Kylo’s cheek with a little more force than necessary, laughing at the way Kylo’s cheeks color, visible even in this poor lighting.

Thumbing along Kylo’s pants again, Hux smirks at the way Kylo’s breath hitches again, body nearly shaking in anticipation.  Finally, _finally_ , Hux slips his hand beneath Kylo’s pants, thumbing along the crown of his wet head and spreading the slick around.  Kylo groans deep in his chest, trying to shove himself closer as he pants a thankful breath against the side of Hux’s head.  Hux strokes him in earnest, root to tip and back again, his grasp firm and sure while his other hand grips Kylo’s hip tightly enough to bruise.  

It doesn’t take much to get Kylo to the edge when he’s like this, already wound up like a coiled spring after having been gone for so long.  The room’s filled with Kylo’s panting little moans and the wet, lewd squelches of leather on slick skin, sticky and perfect.  Kylo’s a mess, dark hair sticking to his forehead and cherry red lips parted as Hux works him over, squeezing the cockhead until Kylo nearly growls from desire, eyes falling half-shut.

Hux’s movements don’t falter as he leans in, pressing a deceivingly sweet kiss beneath Kylo’s ear before saying, “You want to come?”

Kylo’s responding groan is laced with frustration, ever the impatient, stubborn beast.

“You know I do,” he grunts, and Hux thumbs the slit of his cock until Kylo has to bite his lips to muffle a cry.

He leans in closer, bites his earlobe again. “Then you have to beg me for it.”

_Beg me like he begged you, and maybe I’ll let you come._

Kylo shudders, all but vibrating in Hux’s hands, and Hux can see the war rage on Kylo’s face as he reconciles his need to come and obey with his dignity.  The former must win, because one clever curve of Hux’s wrist that rolls the head of Kylo’s cock has him breaking.

“Hux, please,” Kylo starts, voice shaky and quiet.  Far too quiet, actually, which just isn’t acceptable.  He wants Kylo loud, wants him to scream Hux’s name until his throat is raw and sore.

“You can do better than that,” Hux reprimands, slowing the speed of his strokes. “Like you mean it, Kylo.”

Maybe it’s the reduced pace or the use of his name, but Kylo obliges, the words spilling past his plush lips with abandon, “Please, Hux, I need it, need it so badly, _please._ ”

Hux makes a show of humming, considering.  He knows that when Kylo gets in the right headspace, he can beg even better, too far gone to care about how pathetic he must look.  So he hesitates, and Kylo, with his eyes wet and face etched in desperation, gives a quiet but fervent _please, Sir, please_ and ah, there it is.  Hux jacks him fast and wet, and Kylo rests his head against Hux’s shoulder, muffling his groans and _thank you_ s in Hux’s dark robe.  Keeping his fist a tight ‘o’, Hux presses encouragements into Kylo’s hair, _good boy, that’s it, let go for me now,  let me feel you come_ , and then Kylo is shaking, painting Hux’s glove in stripes of thick, warm white.

Kylo is still as he comes down from the high, and Hux smears ropes of come along Kylo’s bare stomach.  When he steps back to give them both space, he’s pleased to see Kylo looking wrecked, his cheeks colored and hair all over the place, but his expression a dazed contentment.  Without a word, Hux lifts his sticky glove to Kylo’s lips, and Kylo obediently licks the fingers and palm clean, slow, graceless swipes of his tongue, and the display makes Hux ache even more in his pants.  Kylo must notice the way Hux follows the motions of his tongue, because when Hux drops his hand, Kylo has this gleam to his eye, a hopeful, almost mischievous look that makes Hux wonder if it belongs more to Ben Solo than it does Kylo Ren.

“What?”

“You haven’t come yet,” Kylo says, words slurred from the remnants of pleasure in his veins.

Hux almost rolls his eyes, teeth gritting.  “Obviously.”

Kylo steps forward, closing the gap between them once more, almost shy. “Let me.  Please.”

It’s the tacked on request that makes Hux’s lips curl in an unpleasant smile, because oh, Kylo, always so eager to please Hux.  Hux takes Kylo’s hand, maintains devilish eye contact as he walks backward toward his bedroom.

“Come on then,” Hux says, “I want to see you choke on it.”

Hux goes, and Kylo, dark and frightening and obedient, follows.


End file.
